A Hawke and Her Beast
by Defiant.Anjeru
Summary: Slight twist AU/cross over with Immortals After Dark. Danarius named Fenris after a wolf for a reason and Hawke, on the full moon, suddenly realizes why that is. So very NSFW. Gift fic for Hatsepsut.


**This, I have decided, is a late Christmas/New Years present for Hatsepsut, because, well, she's awesome. Simply put – plus, I have a feeling she's going to like this one. **

**A/N: **This is sort of a cross-over, but not really. This is highly NSFW and a bit of an alternate universe. It's a mix of Dragon Age II and a bit of Kresley Cole's Immortals After Dark book series. Also, in its own way, it is sort of a twist on Beauty and the Beast. Kind of. I've been planning on a new series sort of incorporating various fairy tales, at least their general gist, so we'll see how this one goes first before I decide whether or not to keep going.

I'd love feedback, if you feel so inclined to leave some. :3

**Disclaimer: **Dragon Age belongs to Bioware and Immortals After Dark belongs to Kresley Cole.

* * *

Lothering had been Marian Hawke's entire life. Her father had made a life in the meager town for their family. They prospered well enough, her and her siblings even making friends, though Hawke and her sister shared a natural talent in using magic. That labeled them as dangerous, something their father knew well; he taught her and her sister how to conceal and protect themselves. With his guidance, life was good.

But then, misfortune beset the family. First Hawke's father died, then the darkspawn invaded and destroyed everything that Lothering was. The damned creatures even took her poor, sweet little sister from her. With their friends gone, their lands gone, Hawke, her brother, and her mother, had no choice but to journey to Kirkwall, where their mother swore help awaited. Along the way they picked up a woman named Aveline, and her husband, though her husband didn't last out the journey.

By some miracle – and with a dragon witch's help – they made it to Kirkwall in one piece.

And yet, it was only the beginning.

Hawke's uncle turned out to be a two-bit cheat and a deadbeat. He'd made it so they could enter the city, but only if she and her brother, Carver, sold themselves into indentured servitude for a year. They had to work, and work hard, sometimes even resorting to illegal means, to feed themselves and care for their mother – if their greedy uncle didn't keep his paws on their hard earned coin first, that is.

Hawke was the optimistic sort, at least. She could keep a smile on her face, even when weathering such misfortune. Her brother had none of it, broody and sour as ever, declaring she may be fit for this life, but he was not, and never would be. She could see that he thought himself beyond all this.

Frankly, she was beginning to grow sick of his attitude. And hell, even this life. She wanted to go back to Lothering, before her father had died, but the best they could do now was try and move forward, forge a new life in this awful place that held danger down every alley.

It wasn't all bad, though. She made new friends – a possessed mage, a story-telling dwarf with a fetish for his crossbow, an elven blood mage, a lusty pirate, an exiled prince, and a very enigmatic elf covered in strange, yet entrancing, white tattoos. Each had fascinating histories to be honest, but only that elf – Fenris – seemed to hold her attention for more than a moment. There was...something about him, something that called out to her in an almost primal way.

That night, after they had cleared his master's house of its mage summoned abominations, she could have sworn she had seen the image of a beast flicker over him. His eyes had regarded her steadily and she'd said nothing, instead opting to blame it on her over active imagination.

This man, whomever he was, would change her life forever in a very substantial way. She could feel it.

She just didn't realize how much until the full moon came next to Kirkwall.

* * *

Fenris paced the confines of his ex master's mansion, his blood searing through his veins like molten lava. His heart pounded in his chest like a miner's pick; hard, fast, nearly erratic. He couldn't stop the growls slipping past his lips, his fingers curling and uncurling as his sides. The full moon would be rising tonight and he knew he wouldn't be able keep himself from going to her, lyrium leash be damned.

His eyes – flickering between their natural green and his beastly blue – fell to look at the lines adorning that back of one of his arms. His lips twisted wryly. His ex master – a mage like Hawke – had deemed him too dangerous once he realized what Fenris truly was; this realization ultimately had Danarius before a ritual to bind his true nature, a ritual that had worked and yet, completely erased his memory. Everything that came before was wiped clean, as if he had never existed before that point in time, as if there had never been a man before Fenris.

Hell, he didn't even know if that was his real name. It was what his master had decided to call him, but it sickened him – he was _not _Danarius' little wolf. It was only because of an incident that Fenris even knew what he was, a lykae. An immortal being that shared his body and psyche with a wolf, or what nightmares spoke of – a werewolf. That's what he was. Guess his master had a warped sense of humor; he wanted to suppress the beast and yet, he had named him as such.

Fenris sighed and rolled his shoulders. His damn skin itched, like he wanted to crawl out of it. Already he had been fighting the urge to run to Hawke, throw her down, and claim her for what she was – his mate. That's the thing about lykae; the moment they saw their mate, they knew. No explanation, that was just how it was. Very briefly, he thought she had seen the beast flicker over his features, but then she shook her head, no doubt attributing it to her imagination.

If only she knew.

Maker above, he didn't want to scare her off. He almost hoped his lykae leash would work, keep the beast suppressed so he wouldn't storm her home in Lowtown and drag her back to his mansion where he would claim her over and over, until neither of them could move, and she was marked completely – inside and out – by him.

The pull of mates was so strong, he doubted the true power of his master's magic; already once, he had breached the leash and almost beheaded his master. If Danarius had been alone, he would be dead.

He grabbed a bottle of his master's wine, bit out the cork with his sharpening teeth, and downed it. Then he threw it across the room and watched as it shatter almost beautifully against the wall. Remaining drops of wine slid down the surface and he lapped his tongue across his lips, his chest heaving as his control became more and more unstable. Night was falling quickly; he didn't have to look and see, he could _feel _it.

He started suddenly, head snapping up as Hawke's scent sifted throughout his home. His sensitive hearing picked up the sound of the front door shutting; it wasn't even loud, just a soft click, but enough for his hypersensitive hearing to pick it up. And that scent – lyrium and herbs, with a hint of vanilla. Just her scent alone made his cock harden unbearably in his breeches. Maker, she couldn't be here, not tonight.

He knew if he was in her presence, the leash would fail.

"Get out, Hawke!" He snapped, a growl underlining his words, making him sound nearly feral. Maker, already the beast was trying to make the surface, fighting the lyrium leash. He heard her steps falter at the base of the steps that led to this room, but she didn't stop. She'd started becoming used to his gruff demeanor, which wasn't a good thing right now.

"Must you always snap at me?" Hawke huffed with mock irritation as she paused in the doorway. Her amber eyes glinted with her amusement, her tongue wetting her lips to make them gleam invitingly in the light of the candles and fire. She was an entrancing creature, but if she knew of her allure, she had never given any indication. Hawke seemed unaware of her pull on males and he had to bite back a growl at the thought of other males laying their eyes on her – he couldn't even allow himself to think that a man had laid his hands upon her. Eyes were bad enough.

He felt the beast yank against its mystical bonds, nearly roaring in his ears for him to throw her on the table and take what was his. She was his mate. If the beast had its way, she would know that soon enough. He feared hurting her. While he was immortal, she was human and fragile. He could break her in two without even trying.

"You shouldn't be here," he grumbled as he turned his back toward her. He folded his arms across his chest, his gauntlet claws digging into the flesh of his arms, the sharp sting of pain helping keep his mind focused. At least for now.

"You always say that." She laughed softly and the sweet melody caused his cock to twitch.

So much for staying focused. Now all he could picture was ripping her clothes from her body, bending her over the table, and taking her like there was no tomorrow. He imagined himself biting her, sinking his fangs into that sweet curve of her shoulder. The thought should be abhorrent to him; he hated mages, and yet he desired her like nothing else.

Fate. What a twisted bitch.

He grunted and didn't turn to face her, not trusting himself as night began to fall around the city. "What do you want, Hawke?"

She huffed. "Well, see, now you've made me forget." Her heard the material of her cloth shift and pictured her nonchalant shrug. "Maybe I came to talk?"

"Why would you do that?"

"I'm making friends, Fenris. I'd like to get to know my companions." He heard her move to the bench and seat herself, the fabric of her robes shifting in the quiet of the room as she crossed her legs.

That wouldn't do. She shouldn't be closing those legs. They should be wide, spread open to his gaze, as he pounded himself in and out of her core. "There isn't anything to know," he grumbled.

"I find that hard to believe." She drawled. What would her voice sound like when she was screaming in pleasure? "Surely there is something."

He shuddered and growled, loud. He heard her stiffen, the muscles in her body suddenly tense. He could feel the moon now, feel the pull it had on his beast. He sniffed the air soundlessly, then growled again, louder, as he scented her arousal. Such a wonderful smell. His growl made her wet and eager for him; she must feel the same pull as he.

The lyrium in his veins lighted and he tossed his head back as it burned. She jumped up, rushed to his side, worried that he was in pain. When her hands touched him with the barest hint of healing magic, he cried out mindlessly in pleasure. The magic, mixed with the lyrium, and her touch, was nearly enough to make him spill his seed in his breeches.

"Fenris! What's wrong?" He could hear the panic and worry in her voice, and yet, seeing him like this; he could still scent her arousal. She wanted him, even if she didn't understand why. Oh, he understood, and she would by the end of the night, if the beast had his way.

He snapped around with a snarl, grasping her frail shoulders in his hands. She did not cave beneath his strength and he was amazed at how much power she truly held in her small, curvy frame. Her wide eyes peered into his and she wet lips, tongue lingering enough to make him groan aloud. "Fenris, you're eyes..."

"I know," he groaned, his voice deeper and rougher, like sweet, delicious chocolate that eased the craziest craving. "You do this to me, dear Hawke. You make me crazy."

"What?" If it were possible, her eyes widened further, a wide pool of gold he nearly drowned in.

He moved so quickly, she couldn't see what had happened until she was pressed against the wall, his hand – gauntlet free – wrenched in her hair. He tilted her head back and his breath fell across her neck, then lower over the curve where her neck met her shoulder. She bit back a moan as he pressed his body to hers, the evident bulge of his straining cock making her weak in the knees. "Mark the ever living void out of you," he mumbled as he nipped her tender flesh.

"Fenris – "

"_You're mine_."

And then he was biting her, _sharp fangs _piercing her soft skin. She cried out, the sound sweet nectar to his ears. His hands slid down to the front of her robes, claws tearing away at them until the material floated to the floor in nothing but scraps. He growled, loud, the sound reverberating through her flesh and then the scent of her arousal was nearly overpowering, his eyes taking in as her nipples pebbled beneath the fabric of her breast band.

He wanted the perfect little buds in his mouth as he shoved himself cock deep into her sopping core.

The beast in him roared approval at the sight of his mark on her shoulder. He hadn't meant to say it, but it was the truth – Hawke was the beauty to his beast. She was his.

His hand slid down her trembling abdomen to find its way into her smalls. His claws and fingers found her core hot and so very deliciously wet for him. Careful of the claws, he dipped his fingers into her heat and shuddered even as she moaned, tossing her head back. Oh she was ready for him, she wanted this as much as he. He stroked her deeply, harder, then faster, nearly cumming at the sounds that spilled from her lovely lips. "Ah, Maker, Hawke, that's it – open for me. Cum. I want to see your face as you cum on my fingers." His voice was the final push and suddenly she stiffened, hips undulating to his touch as her core clenched on his fingers like an iron clamp, flooding the digits with her sweet release.

He brought his fingers from her and dipped those drenched fingers into his mouth, tongue swirling around the digits to lick of every drop of her essence. She watched, eyes hungry and nearly as wild as his. The sight of him licking her taste from his fingers only spiked her arousal even higher.

Beast or no, this was going to happen.

There was no turning back now.

With a growl, he yanked her away from the wall and bent her over the table top. His claws ripped the fabric of her smalls away in one smooth motion, revealing her glistening core to his hot, steel blue gaze. The beast roared in him and he nearly ripped his own clothing off, to free his thick, aching shaft. Then he thumbed her opening, spreading the moisture and stroking her to a fever pitch before pulling away. She cried at the loss but he immediately returned, pressing the thick head of his cock against her. With a brutal cry, he thrust himself forward, sheathing himself deeply in her wicked tight heat.

They both moaned and shuddered, bodies wracked with insurmountable pleasure. He couldn't control himself after that, not that he wanted to. Hips pulled back enough to bring his shaft free of her, before they slammed forward against her heavenly buttocks to bury that thick shaft once more in her. Maker, she felt like heaven, greater even.

The pace kicked up and soon he was panting, sweat dripping onto her back as he thrust again and again, pistoning his cock within her over and over. Her hands scored the table top, flames licking across her palms to scorch the wood, as she undulated her hips against his in pleasure.

His head dipped down to that sweet curve of her shoulder, fangs once again finding her flesh and pressing deep. She cried out and once more he was treated to her wonderful release. Maker, the way she clenched down on his cock, milking it for all it was worth...it was a wonder he didn't just spill himself then and there. But the beast wasn't satisfied yet. They needed to see her to spent, so fulfilled, that she'd collapse, before they allowed themselves to finish – for once the two were in agreement.

So on and on it went. Thrust after thrust, orgasm after orgasm, until she was nearly weeping on the table top, every one of her limbs trembling with pleasure induced numbness. Finally, when it seemed as if she could take no more, he roared and flipped her over, mouth finding her nipples and tormenting the sensitive, tight buds as he thrust harder and faster. And then she was weeping, begging, for what she didn't know. The pleasure was addicting and so out of this world, that she feared she would never be the same.

He lifted his head, feral gaze locked on her trembling mouth. Then he was kissing her, molding her breast with a hand as he thrust and thrust, until, finally, with a cry she eagerly swallowed, he erupted within her. Jet after jet of his seed spilled into her, coating her, claiming her, _branding _her.

"Ah, my beauty, we're not done yet," her beast growled and she shuddered wantonly. Even weary as she was, she didn't fight as he dragged before the fire where their passion began again. After what felt like hours of intense pleasure, she could take no more and slipped into the sweet oblivion of black, her body shuddering with one last, world shattering, orgasm.

* * *

When she woke, she could barely move. Her whole body ached. Slowly, she pried her eyes open only to find Fenris looking down at her.

"I meant what I said."

"Hmm?" Her mouth was so dry, throat working as she swallowed thickly. Her tongue slipped out to wet her lips.

"You're mine."

Strangely, she was perfectly at ease with that. Somewhere inside, she knew she belonged to this elf – with him. He has his secrets, but they all did, and if they were anything like what she had learned last night, well, she might just have fun ferreting out his secrets.


End file.
